


Diagnosis

by Brushfire



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! Zexal
Genre: Character Study, Gen, I separated this from the drabble collection, Pseudo-Friendship, art included, enemies to awkward acquaintances?, getting stuck in a snowstorm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-22
Updated: 2018-10-22
Packaged: 2019-08-06 00:22:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16377869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brushfire/pseuds/Brushfire
Summary: In which Chris begins to understand Mizael.





	Diagnosis

* * *

 

Chris remembered the first time Mizael had come to Heartland Tower, in the aftermath of all that happened. He had been the one to open the door, and they stared at each other in an awkward silence before Chris told Kaito he had a visitor and left Mizael at the threshold. Kaito hadn't returned to the lab that day, and after then Mizael's presence became an increasingly frequent occurrence. Chris’ father was completely unperturbed the first time Mizael ventured into the lab, greeting him offhandedly and telling Mizael to hand him some file they needed. Dr. Faker seemed utterly unsure of how to react, and chose to simply not.

Chris was wary, wasn’t sure what to think of Mizael. He was inclined to not trust him, but seeing how Kaito had accepted him and how Haruto had more than forgiven him, Chris found himself wondering if Mizael was really a threat now. His opinion may have been additionally swayed by the times Mizael took it upon himself to cook dinner for them when they were either too lazy or too motivated to do so themselves; it was admittedly the best food Chris had in a long time.

There was also the fact that Mizael seemed to be an almost entirely different person now that they didn’t stand on opposite ends of the battlefield. Chris wondered if Kaito had seen this part of Mizael, if this is why he was so determined to reach out to the Varian lord. Gone were the threats and the bravado, leaving behind a man who was insightful and almost warm-hearted. Mizael still wasn’t much of a conversationalist, but he seemed content to listen, be it scientific theorems or Haruto’s recountings of the day’s events. With some prodding Mizael’s pride could still be brought to the surface, but it was hollow and often expressed over trivial things, the threatening undercurrent it once held now absent.

For a long while, it seemed as though Mizael was determined to avoid Chris completely. It was only when they ran into each other on the street – literally – that Chris managed to coax him into a conversation. And even then it was by accident, with Chris not realizing who’s groceries he was helping pick up off the sidewalk and Mizael not realizing who’s back he had smacked into. He remembered that Mizael had taken to wearing a baseball cap and this ugly pullover sweatshirt in public. Mizael was hiding from classmates who kept pursuing him about outside of school hours, he explained, chasing down an apple that was trying to roll down the street. Chris laughed at this. He could only imagine the reaction someone as beautiful as Mizael got from hapless middle schoolers.

Somewhere along the way, Chris had given Mizael his number, and quickly found himself responding to Mizael’s endless questions over text, countless streams of  _“what are tachyons anyway?”_  and  _“why are they hypothetical?”_  and  _“do satellites and shooting stars ever collide?”_  and  _“do you like dumplings?”_  Some of them were endearing in their creative naivety, some of them simple or trivial. Some required long-winded and complicated answers that Mizael got frustrated with. Chris suggested using a search engine instead at some point, but Mizael waved it off, saying that Chris explained it better than strangers on the internet who didn’t have a degree in quantum physics. Astrophysics, Chris told him. Mizael just shrugged.

Spring turned to summer to winter, and Mizael became somewhat of a constant in Chris’ life, wandering about the lab or the Tenjo household or passing by Chris in the street. At times he didn’t come, wrapped up in school or doing whatever else it was that Mizael did, Chris didn’t know. Chris didn’t know a lot about Mizael. In fact, it was around this time that three things became apparent to Chris: Mizael walked everywhere, he didn’t have a proper winter coat, and despite all their talking, Chris knew nothing about him.

An effort to resolve these things accumulated into Chris insisting on driving Mizael home late one night. The snow fell heavily outside, and when Chris started the car, the radio warned him of an approaching snowstorm and advised against driving tonight. Mizael made to leave the car, but was foiled by the child safety lock. Chris smiled at the annoyed look Mizael shot him.

The city kept the evening bright, the heavy clouds reflecting the urban lights as the car wove through the streets, asphalt icy beneath the tires. Mizael slumped in the passenger seat, hands stuffed into the pockets of his sweatshirt. The heater vent blew his hair around as he pointed it directly at his face. He was oddly quiet, teeth worrying his bottom lip. Chris turned down the radio.

“Everything alright?” He asked, glancing at Mizael.

“Mmh,” Mizael replied, shifting in his seat. “Just thinking.”

Chris nodded, easing his foot onto the brake. The snow was falling faster now, the windshield wipers struggling to clear the flakes as they cascaded onto the glass. Chris swore as he felt the car shudder as it began to slide across the road, pumping the brake in an effort to stop its momentum. Mizael shouted as they twisted suddenly, and the automobile flung itself into a snowbank, Chris’ seat belt locking as it slammed to a halt. The interior fell quiet, disrupted by the low murmur of the radio and their heavy breathing. Chris loosened his white knuckled grip on the steering wheel, peeling his fingers from the plastic one by one. Next to him, Mizael let out a long sigh and slid further down in the seat, looking for all the world like a angry teenager with his sweatshirt and sour expression. They sat in silence, the snow falling around them. Gripping the gear shift, Chris put the car into reverse, unsurprised when the wheels spun uselessly against the snow.

“Christopher, I’m sorry.” Mizael’s voice cut through the sound of the engine humming, and Chris looked at him as the car rocked back into its original position. Christopher, always Christopher. Despite Chris' best efforts, Mizael continued to be stubborn enough to refuse to use anything but his full name. It was endearing, in a way. 

“It’s fine, it’s not as though you control the weather.” He gave up and put the car in park, unbuckling his seatbelt.

Chris already knew that Mizael wasn’t referring to the snow. He wasn’t talking about the fact that they were stuck or that Chris was doing Mizael a favor by driving him home this late at night. But Chris knew what it was like to not know what to say, to be without words to convey what he meant, so he extended the olive branch regardless.

“I’m not talking about the weather,” Mizael mumbled.

An olive branch that Mizael wasn’t going to accept. He should have expected it, expected this, eventually. Mizael was someone who took responsibility for his actions, however painful doing so may be. Shoulders stooped, Mizael sat tucked against the window, his breath clouding the glass with each exhale. Gold hair tumbled over his shoulders, snarled from being pulled up all day. He pressed his lips together and spoke again.

“I’m… we were responsible for everything that happened. For ruining your lives, for ruining Kaito’s and Haruto’s. I never supported the idea but I should have continued to argue against it, instead of giving in like a weak child. I should have convinced them there was a better way to do things than needlessly involve all of you. I -”

His voice broke, and in that moment, Chris realized that the person he was sitting next to was someone he had never seen before. For the first time, Chris looked at Mizael, miserable and curled in the passenger seat of Chris’ car in the middle of the night. This was Mizael beneath the shroud of desperation poised as strength; vulnerable, remorse and self loathing lying exposed as a wound. War-worn, troubled.  _Tired._ Chris wondered how long it had been since Mizael last allowed himself to be like this.

“I’m no saint either, Mizael.” Chris sighed, leaning back in his seat. “I made plenty of mistakes and frankly terrible decisions myself, for the sake of saving my family. I abused both Kaito and Haruto’s trust countless times. Honestly, you probably handled the situation with far more grace than I would have in your position.”

“It was our fault that your family became like that,” Mizael said bitterly.

Chris drummed his fingers against the steering wheel, watching the snow fall outside the dark interior of the car. He had never been good with these kinds of conversations. One of the reasons why Chris and Kaito never talked about all that had happened was because they both didn’t know what to say. But Chris knew what Mizael was feeling all too well. He couldn’t imagine what it would be like to have to bear that weight for centuries. To go against what he knew to be right, to suffocate his morals for the sake of survival.

For what certainly wasn’t the first time, Chris found himself thinking that there was possibly no one alive who was stronger than Mizael, in both fortitude and will.

“That is true,” Chris said eventually, speaking slow and even, determined to choose his words wisely, determined to not drive Mizael away. “But just as that doesn’t absolve you of your involvement, it doesn’t absolve me of my actions. It’s not as though you’re without regret – you said yourself, you tried to argue against what was decided. Ultimately, I think you’ve redeemed yourself more than you’re letting yourself realize. You killed me. And yet here we are, stuck in a car together in a snowstorm, having a civil conversation. I say that counts for something.”

He must have said something right, because Mizael turned away from the window to look at Chris. Uncertainty marred his features, his eyes dark and rueful. The expression didn’t suit him at all. But Chris was tired and it seemed as though easy answers just weren’t going to be found, so he reached over and placed his hand atop Mizael’s head, ruffling his hair.

“What I’m saying, Mizael, is that you’ve been through enough. You don’t need to beat yourself up over things that others have forgiven you for. You’re allowed to be happy.”

Mizael’s hair was soft, and he let his fingers linger for a moment longer before pulling his hand away, only for it to quickly caught by Mizael’s own. Chris blinked, looking from where their hands met to Mizael’s face. Mizael stared at Chris’ hand as though startled to see it, as though Chris were the one who had initiated the contact. He watched in fascination as Mizael stuttered, red faced and unable to grasp whatever it was he wanted to say. Eventually Mizael shut his eyes and took a deep breath.

“I... thank you, Christopher.” He said, and for a moment Chris found himself pinned beneath the full force of Mizael’s gaze. Releasing his hand, Mizael turned back to the window. Chris watched as he pulled the raw, shattered pieces of himself back together once more and locked them up beneath the facade he had built. It was unsettling to watch, an action so blatantly familiar to Chris. Perhaps they’d stay that way forever, self-stifling and rigid. Perhaps Chris would wake up the next morning and find himself convinced that this was all a dream. But Mizael sat a little straighter, he shoulders less curled, as though a weight had been lifted from them. So perhaps not, then.

Chris sighed, and patted his coat pocket, trying to locate his phone.

“What are you doing?” Mizael asked, watching him struggle, lips curled gently at the corners behind the curtain of his hair. Pulling out his phone, Chris swiped his thumb across the screen, the light casting the car interior in a pale glow.

“I think now’s a good time to call Kaito and admit that we are stuck out here.”

Mizael snickered.


End file.
